


Truth Has a Way of Getting Out

by herbailiwick



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 17:58:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/751378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herbailiwick/pseuds/herbailiwick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>amayakumiko prompted, "Can you write Dean finding out about Sam and Bobby?"</p><p>8 Ways Dean Could Have Found Out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truth Has a Way of Getting Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amayakumiko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amayakumiko/gifts).



**(2006). Phone Call**

"Why are you smiling so much?" Dean pressed. "Meet someone pretty? Been dreaming about...what's her name...again?"

"I'm not!" Sam said quickly.

"Man, whatever's got you in a good mood, I gotta get me some of that."

Sam stared red-faced at his laptop screen for way too long.

"Dude. It can't be that bad," Dean insisted.

"Shut up, Dean."

Dean's phone rang. 

Dean flipped it open. "Hey! Hey, Bobby. Oh, yeah? That'd make sense. Fits the lore." He glanced over at Sam, who was looking even more hunched and hopeless.

"That's what Sam thought," Dean said, noting the way Sam glanced up just for a second

Dean narrowed his eyes suddenly. "Hey, Bobby, do me a favor? Yes, _another_ favor. Yeah, just, uh, say hi to Sam for me."

Sam glanced up quickly, mimed "no", but Dean shoved the phone in his face.

"Dean?" Bobby asked uncertainly.

"Uh. No, Bobby," Sam croaked, filled with dread.

"Um. Hey, Sam."

"Hey, Bobby. I think Dean had something else to say."

Sam got up and ran.

"Bobby, do you think Sam maybe...has a crush on you?" Dean asked.

And Bobby did the only thing that could have turned Dean's worry up a notch instead of put it at ease: He hung up. 

___

**(2007). Laundry**  


Dean was restless with nothing good on TV, no hunt, and Sam and Bobby on some stupid shopping trip to restock some of Bobby's rarer supplies. To be fair, they'd asked Dean if he wanted to come, but he'd said no. Actually, he was still trying to wrap his head around his brother being the Boy King of Hell or whatever.

It sucked. Everything sucked. Including Bobby's leftovers, but Bobby did have enough sitting around that Dean could whip up a burger for himself, or else go out and grab one.

He didn't usually opt to man the fort, and this boredom was why. 

When his eyes caught on the towel he'd bloodied up the night before, he decided to try and gather up some laundry to do to pass the time. He didn't like to admit it, but it was kind of nice to have a place that had laundry that wasn't just done by the housekeeping staff, a place that was permanent, if a little...cluttered and whacked out.

Dean even ventured into Bobby's room to shove some of his clothes into a hamper, just as a silent sort of Thanks For Everything You Are To Me You Booze-Soaked S.O.B, when the realization happened. When he found the first pair of Sam's boxers and the shirt of Sam's, he really didn't think anything of it. Sam was just oddly careless at Bobby's; that had to be it.

It was when he saw the other pair of boxers hanging out the side of the bed, nearly hidden by the rucked-down covers that he swallowed, carefully reaching out to confirm they were Sam's. 

He balled them up quickly, throwing them across the room into the hamper, sinking the shot, which made his lip try to quirk, but his eyes were too wide, and he just sort of shook his head.

"I am _never_ ," he told himself, "never washing Bobby's sheets again."

***

"Anything you wanna tell me, Sam?" Dean dangled the boxers from his fingertips. Sam took it admirably well, the color draining from his face, his shocked expression sweet and shy and so Sammy.

"Um. Thanks for...doing my laundry?"

Dean raised them up above his head, though, really, Sam had no chance of not being able to reach them if he wanted them. 

"You know where these were?"

"Yeah," Sam said, voice oddly high-pitched. "I mean...yeah."

Dean swallowed. "Did you two just, uh. Did you get a little...uninhibited the other night?" He cringed. He could remember the way they'd been drinking.

"Um. It was." Sam reddened. "It was sort of...sort of an anniversary type thing?" He flushed. "Oh god, don't let him know you know."

Dean tossed the boxers at Sam in disgust, and Sam caught them sheepishly.

"Anniversary?" Dean demanded. "Sam, don't...gay up our only remaining father figure."

"Your father figure, Dean," Sam said, hugging the underwear close. "Not mine."

Dean paused, swallowed. "Um. Okay," he said.

"Okay?"

"Yeah. Just...I mean, I promise I won't tell him, okay?" Dean shuddered. He'd tell Sam to make sure they kept it down, but Dean had honestly never heard them before. In fact, he was disappointed and a little creeped out to realize they'd been able to hide something from him for, what, six months? More?

"...Sorry," Sam blurted out. "Dean, I'm sorry."

Dean raised a hand, closing his eyes. "No more. Stop, Sammy." 

Sam lowered his head, sorry at the tip of his tongue, but he kept it to himself.

Dean watched Sam again, watched him slowly look up at Dean, take the underwear to his bag and pack it inside. 

He never did realize that it was Bobby who wanted to celebrate the occasion, not Sam.

___

**(2008). Drunken Confessions**

"And, Dean, that's not all of it. I wasn't just sleeping with Ruby, I was cheating, too," Sam nodded dizzily, eyes intent and softly sad. 

"Sam," Dean sighed. 

"When I was in that first Wednesday," Sam laughed a dark laugh Dean hated the sound of. "When I was in that first Wednesday, that was bad enough."

"Okay, what first Wednesday?" Dean asked warily.

"But," Sam shook his wobbly head. "But I really think Bobby _trusts_ me. You know?"

"He does," Dean said quietly. "Sam, look, you're like two seconds from making a scene."

Sam reached out, grasped the side of Dean's face. "We're not supposed to be a thing," he whispered. "We're doomed."

Dean looked around uneasily, grinned at a couple of the other patrons who were staring. "Okay, Sam," he said, reaching for the hand at his cheek, starting to peel it off. "Okay, Sam. Okay. What? We're doomed? No we're not. I'm back from Hell, now."

"No, no. Me and Bobby," Sam nodded, leaning forward against the table, whispering conspiratorially. "Bobby and I? Bobby and...Bobby and me. Bobby and me, we're doomed."

"Bobby and I," Dean said, though not entirely sure of it himself. "And doomed how?"

"I cheated on him," Sam spat, suddenly loud, sitting up a little more. "I cheated on him, with a demon. He hates demons."

"Who doesn't?" Dean said, and then Dean swallowed. Firstly because, well, Sam sort of didn't, at least not as much as he should. And secondly because...did Sam just say...?

"Sam," Dean hissed, lowering his voice, leaning in. "Did you just say...cheating on Bobby? You mean like...no, what do you mean?"

"We're like," Sam laughed, a much lighter laugh. "Dean, we're like boyfriends." He grinned. "Sometimes, anyway. We even did it in the panic room."

Dean jerked back, staring at Sam, scooting his chair back. "What?"

Sam blinked. "Oh," he said. He seemed to shrink a little. "'M sorry, Dean. TMI."

"You're...really?!"

"Hey Dean. Hey. Hey." Sam straightened up as best he could, tried to put on his best Determined Face and really just didn't get anywhere close. "Let's not remember this tomorrow. Okay?"

"Oh, it's too fucking late for that, Casanova," Dean spat, and Sam giggled until Dean decided it was time to drag his too-tall ass back to the motel.

___

**(2009). Overheard Conversations**

"You really wouldn't cut me out?" Sam asked so hopefully that Dean's throat caught and he stood next to the door, letting his hand fall from the knob. 

"Of course not, boy. Besides your stupid brother, you're one of the few things I got goin' for me."

***

"You spat out the blood?"

"Yeah."

"Well," Bobby said, oddly quiet, voice sounding a little thick. "I knew you had it in you, boy."

***

"Bobby, you can't tell me I'm one of the few things you have going for you and then not expect it to be true for me too."

"Sam...it's different."

"It's _not_ different!" Sam sounded so righteously indignant that Dean wondered if he should head in, but then Sam got his voice under control. "Bobby, I want you around as long as possible. And don't think I don't realize that's part of why you tried to gamble away your years in the first place."

"Shut up." Dean could tell by the tone of Bobby's voice that Sam had it right.

***

"I should have been with you guys." The tremor in Bobby's voice stopped Dean cold. He leaned against the door, eyes wide. "I'm useless."

"You are not! You're a genius, and...you care about me, and Dean, and you support us, and, Bobby—"

"Shut up, Sam. You're not the one in this situation, okay? Your ridiculous fucking legs are gonna do you just fine until you die of old age. You're gonna be one of those folk who run marathons when you're 100."

Sam grew quiet. "Bobby, you're probably older than I'm ever gonna be. And I know I'm not in your situation. I can't imagine, no. But you're not useless, alright? I'm the one who," Sam's voice caught. "Bobby, I'm the one who started the Apocalypse, remember? And the two good things I had going for me, my relationship with Dean and this thing with you? I decided Ruby was the better option."

"Well," Bobby said quietly, finally. "Get me a beer and get out of here, would ya?" There was enough affection in the tone that it wasn't really hurtful, but he was definitely dismissing Sam. 

***

"So, just like that, you took out Famine? When you could have drank every single one of them?"

"Uh. Yeah. I guess I didn't really think about it like that."

"Yeah, well, you wouldn't. Good job, kid."

***

"You really are one of the few things keeping me from saying yes. I know that sounds awful."

"It sounds...yeah," Bobby sighed. "Sounds bad. But at least I'm here."

"And you will be, for a long time."

"Why did it have to be you?"

"They won't tell me," Sam joked. "They just say...that it had to."

"Yeah, well." Bobby, uncomfortable, changed the subject to something as much or more uncomfortable. Typical. "What did you, uh. Think, the other day?"

"What did I think of Karen?" Sam asked softly.

"Yeah."

"She was awesome."

"Yeah," Bobby sighed.

"She was exactly the sort of person you should have been with. I'm sorry, Bobby," Sam said. "I'm...sorry."

"Hey. Hey, Sam. _Don't_ be. Sam."

"It's okay," Sam said a little sharply. "It's just the truth."

"Do I look like Jessica to you?" Bobby said gruffly. "Kid, we're making due."

Dean sort of froze up. Wait. Sam was comparing himself to Karen and Bobby was comparing himself to Jessica? Did that mean...?

***

Dean was about to turn the corner and head into the kitchen when he heard their quiet, intent voices. And he heard Sam _giggle_.

"When your brother's out of the picture," Bobby purred, "we're gonna...oh god," he said, breaking the purr, "I don't even know, Sam," he said in a hurried whisper, "but I'll take advantage of these legs."

"You were just as sexy in that chair," Sam purred back, and Dean's eyes were stuck wide open, he could barely even blink, barely move. "Although, I think you're less self-conscious now. You know, if Jake hadn't killed me with that slice, I probably could have ended up in a chair. Would you have thought I wasn't sexy anymore?"

"No," Bobby admitted, and when Dean heard them start to tentatively kiss, he tiptoed back outside. If the two apparent-lovers were about to be on opposite sides of Lucifer's cage door, he'd let them have their way with the kitchen. It was the time for big, awkward sacrifices.

___

**(2010). Lack of Filter**

"Bobby's in a bad mood. What's eating him?" Dean asked as he stared at the door Bobby'd just slammed shut.

"Beats me," Sam said, reaching for a fork, "but that was like the worst sex we've ever had."

___

**(2011). Advice**

"Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah, Bobby?"

"Can I ask you some advice? Some real... _personal_ advice?""

"...I guess so. Sam out?"

"No, he's up in the spare room. But. It's about...a woman," Bobby said with a slight eye twitch Dean couldn't decipher.

Dean finally nodded. "Okay. Shoot."

Bobby sighed in relief. "Alright Let's say...let's say there's a girl you really care about, and you've slept with her before. And she wants to again, but she's kind of...dealing with a lot of...stuff. Is it better if you...comfort her the way she's asking, or if you wait until she has all her...ducks in a row?"

"I'm really not the best person to ask."

"I get that, Dean."

"But I'd say...use your judgment? If you're not gonna let it screw things up, don't let it screw things up. I guess that's all I got."

"Would you take her up on it?"

Dean chuckled. "Depends on if she's my type."

"Dean."

"Fine. Yeah, Bobby." Dean nodded. "I guess I would. Because...sometimes, the comfort of sex can be...effective, I guess. Especially with someone like me," Dean winked, and Bobby rolled his eyes. 

"Point is," said Dean, "if you can't trust her to know herself, how can you know her?"

"Thanks," Bobby said more seriously. "I really...I appreciate it."

"It's okay," Dean said. Dean know how awkward Bobby could feel about the ladies. Sort of like Sam.

***

Sam was in a really good mood, Dean noted. He was sort of grinning to himself and...was that a hickey? Hm. Going out to drink with Bobby had done him some good.

Bobby came downstairs about an hour later looking rested. 

"Hey, did you take my advice?" Dean asked.

Bobby suddenly looked guiltily over at Sam.

"It's okay, Bobby. You won't bruise our delicate Sammy with a little sex talk. Was she hot?"

Sam swallowed, pressed at his scar, eyed Dean and Bobby in turns.

Dean leaned against the counter, frowning at them. "So...it didn't go well? You make an ass of yourself?"

"No," Sam suddenly said. "He didn't. He was...he was really...at the top of his game."

"Like you," Dean said, wiggling his eyebrows. "We all see that hickey, Sam. You do like it a little rough. I should have gone out with you two. Thought I'd have better luck at the other bar."

Sam cleared his throat. "Did you?"

"Not really. Had a nice make-out session, though. But, got tired."

"This stuff with the Leviathan's been rough," Sam noted.

"But still, little Sammy got some action. And Bobby, right?" Dean thought for a second. "Wait, was it Sheriff Mills?"

"No, it wasn't," Bobby said quickly. "Look, Dean, thanks for the advice and all, and," he swallowed, "yes, I took it, and my night went...well, and I'm not gonna go into any detail, okay? But it wasn't the sheriff."

Bobby made himself something to eat, then went out to look at one of the cars.

"So?"

"So?"

"Who was it? Bobby's mystery girl?"

Sam bit his lip in amusement.

"You know something."

"Um. You heard Bobby, Dean. I'm not spilling." Dean couldn't hide his disappointment at that. "So what was the, uh, advice you gave him, anyways?" Sam asked.

"He had a lady friend who wanted to sleep with him. They'd been a thing before, I guess. She was going through a lot of crap, though, and he wondered whether to go for it or to wait. Basically, I thought he should trust her judgment."

Sam's brow furrowed. "Did he, ah, say what she was dealing with?" With a little twitch and a flick of his eyes to the corner of the room, Sam pressed into his scars again.

"No. Why? What was going on?"

"Oh," Sam blinked, not expecting the question to get turned on him. "I don't know. Why would I know?"

"You know _something_."

"No, I don't."

Sam finished getting dressed and headed out to watch Bobby work.

***

"Hey, Bobby?" Dean asked.

"Yeah?"

"What was going on with She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named anyway?"

Bobby looked startled for a second. "Uh. She...she was...uh. She just came out of a, uh...hairy situation, where she'd had to try and...piece herself back together. And she's been handling the aftermath, I suppose. Seems to be doing well as can be expected."

"Sounds pretty rough."

"But, if anyone can handle it, she can handle it," Bobby nodded. "She's...she's beat this sort of thing before."

Sam stopped in the doorway, listening to Bobby, who suddenly faltered and looked away.

"Good for her," Dean said.

Sam and Bobby looked at each other for a moment, a moment that seemed to draw on. 

"Hey, did the whole comfort-by-sex thing seem to help?" Dean finally asked, trying to snap the two out of it.

"Yeah," Sam said, looking at Bobby with one of those small little smiles he had for Bobby, and then he glanced up at Dean in shock. "Er."

"Oh," Dean said. And really, that was all he could say for a good few minutes.

___

**(2012). Spells**

"Hey, Sam? Some of these spells for contacting the dead, you had to be their lover. You get that, right?"

Sam looked at Dean carefully for a minute before nodding. "Yeah, Dean. I know we never told you. But, I guess it doesn't really matter much now. So, yeah."

Dean nodded sadly. "I'm sorry, Sam."

Sam drew in a breath. "Yeah. Thanks, Dean. I'm sorry, too."

___

**(2013). Reunion**

"How come that's all it took for him to believe you?"

Sam's lip quirked. "Do you really want to know my theory?"

"Sure, Sam. Shoot."

"It's awkward."

"I'm all ears."

"I just think he knew me really well." Sam paused. "I know you were his favorite and all. And you're my favorite person too, Dean. But, Bobby and I, we were...kind of intimate." Dean's eyes widened thoughtfully, and he nodded to show he was listening.

Sam nodded back, smiling slightly at the lack of an outburst. "Bobby and I had been together on and off for years. It was kind of an open thing, I guess, but we depended on each other. We trusted each other. He just _knew_ me, you know? Even back when Meg possessed me, she didn't fool him at all, and she was pretty good."

"I can remember. Bitch was a damn good actress," Dean agreed. "So, you and Bobby. When'd it start?"

Sam really hesitated for the first time. "Um. When Dad died, actually,"

"Hell of a long time," Dean pointed out, blinking. "Seriously? I was seriously that oblivious?"

"Well, we wanted you to be, Dean. We were like...beyond careful about that. We didn't know how you'd take it, and then it sort of became...just a fact of our lives? Anyway, he _knew_ you and me, Dean. You because you're like a son to him, and you're like his hero. And me because we're just...we're the most each other could hope for, I guess. And it was really nice." He smiled gently, and Dean believed him, believed every word he said.

Except. "Sam, I think you were more to each other than just 'the best either of you could hope for'."

Sam quietly, slowly nodded, still looking like he found that hard to buy.


End file.
